


Mac and Dennis Get Hitched

by Vampmissedith



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, F/M, M/M, Oral Sex, Show Typical Behaviour
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-27
Updated: 2016-03-27
Packaged: 2018-05-29 06:53:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6363883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vampmissedith/pseuds/Vampmissedith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mac and Dennis get married in an attempt to scam a game show. Meanwhile, the Gang is pretty tired of Mac's refusal to stay out of the closet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mac and Dennis Get Hitched

**Author's Note:**

> Much thanks to my friend Mark for, as always, looking through this and keeping me writing!

Mac and Dennis Get Hitched

1:25 pm  
On a Tuesday  
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

“Well this is goddamn irritating.” Dennis scowled while he sat at the bar, holding a cold bottle of beer in his hand.

“What’s that?” Dee asked, cleaning a glass with a rag. Actually, she wasn’t really doing anything; she always kept it behind the bar so that she could pretend to be working. If someone saw a waitress or bartender or whatever her title technically was wiping away water stains, nobody questioned it. Most people probably fell for it. Dennis wasn’t most people, though. He just didn’t give a shit. Let her live with her delusion, it wasn’t as if it was hurting anybody.

Unlike some other assholes whose delusions totally were.

“Mac.”

“It’s the gay thing, isn’t it?”

“You’re damn right it’s the gay thing! Christ, this morning, while we were eating breakfast, he looks me in the eye and tells me he’s gay, then two seconds later tells me he was just kidding!”

Frank, who sat beside Dennis, frowned deeply and hummed. He held a can of Wolf Cola, but his lips were stained red. Wine wafted from his mouth when he belched. “He did the same thing to me yesterday, only it was outside the bar.” He took another sip, shaking his head.

Charlie sat on the other side of Dennis, right in front of Dee. He didn’t have anything to drink, but his nose was silver and he held a paper bag. The bottom of it was crusted with spray paint. “You know what guys? He did that to me last night, when we were throwing Frank’s rotten eggs at the homeless guys in the back alley. We got one right in the ear and out of nowhere Mac looked at me and told me he was gay, but then he laughed and said that he _totally_ got me and the look on my face was _so funny.”_ He shook his head. “I think he’s losing it man.”

Dee threw her hands in the air in what must’ve been an attempt at gesticulation, but instead came off as flapping. “Well whether he’s losing it or not, I am. I’m getting sick of it. He’s done that to me three times this week!” Normally Dennis would have commented on how squawk-like her pitch was, but he could only nod in agreement. Shit, at this rate, he’d come out four times today alone, but head back in the closet five.

Charlie slouched. “Is it just me, or has he been doing it a lot ever since--”

“The cruise,” the rest finished with Charlie.

“I gotta say, at first the whole closeted thing was hilarious, and well, totally worth exploiting. I have manipulated the shit out of him for years with that, you know? But god, after awhile, I’m just ready to,” Dennis mimed strangling him, perhaps more viciously than intended but god _damn_ was it irritating, “if you know what I mean.”

Charlie scrunched up his shiny nose, red eyes narrowing at him. “Was that a really weird signal for a hand job or something? ‘Cause like, if you think that’ll help, I say go for it.”

“No! That wasn’t what I was--you know what? Never mind.” He shot an irritated glare at Charlie, then nursed his beer to calm himself. It wasn’t his dyslexic friend they were discussing, nor the reason behind his irritation. “The point is, it’s just not funny anymore. Frankly, it’s boring. Can you imagine how much more fun an openly gay Mac would be? At the very least his music taste would improve and I’d get a goddamn dinner party.”

Dee snorted. “His music taste isn’t going to change, Dennis, that’s just wildly inappropriate of you to say.”

“Oh come on, Dee! You saw how quick he was to take on all the stereotypes!”

“I think your music taste is gay enough for the both of you,” Frank slurred, wine dribbling over his blood-red lips and down his chin.

Dennis waved his hand dismissively. “Oh, please. I’m bisexual, I embraced all that years ago.”

“Wait so like . . . you cultivate your music tastes to match your sexuality or did you cultivate your sexuality to match your music taste . . . ?” Charlie punctuated his question with a hearty sniff of the paper bag.

“No, Charlie, what I think he’s saying,” Dee began, in that tone she always used when she acted as if she had any goddamn knowledge on the subject of anything whatsoever, “is that being bisexual excuses him for having such a faggy taste in music.”

Charlie nodded as if he understood (and maybe he did, but maybe he didn’t; it was hard to tell with him). “Do you ever think it’s us? You know, like we’re the reason he’s scared to come out? I mean you did just say ‘faggy’ Dee and maybe that like, upsets him?” Charlie’s voice pitched upward in question, though by at least three too many octaves.

She clinked the glass down on the bar in frustration. “Really Charlie? He’s a devout Catholic who carries around a thing to whip himself with when he misbehaves; I think it’s safe to say that’s what freaks him out about the whole,” she waved her hand around, rag waving like a flag, “gay thing.” She placed her hand on her hips and fixed him with a steady, totally patronizing, look. “Besides, you think Nightman is sexy, I dated my college roommate ‘til that bitch tried to like become me or whatever, Frank’s had like eighty orgies that involve men, and Dennis is, well, Dennis. I think that means we’re all safe from being homophobic, am I right? Dennis, am I right?”

“I don’t give a shit. I just want him to stop being so goddamn annoying.”

Frank raised his can up as if he were clinking another. “No shit. We gotta do something.” He sipped his can, then stared at it for a brief second, before his eyes lit up. “Well if anyone here is capable of dragging him out of the closet, it’s you. He’s completely in love with you.”

“You think I don’t know that? You think I haven’t been _trying?_ I mean, what else am I supposed to do? Marry him?”

* * *

They all stared at him. Their impatience to hear his answer burned through the air, uncomfortably hot and smoky (though judging by the scent of garbage, that was probably just Charlie burning stuff again). It was that, coupled with their expressions (eyes as wide as their grins) and Dee even moving her finger in a circle in an irritating “hurry up” gesture, that made his heart beat irregularly fast behind his sternum and eardrums and brain, an unsteady thump-bang thump-skip-thump on fast forward pounding louder than the jukebox. It totally had absolutely nothing to do with Dennis on one knee in front of him, holding out a (gorgeous and huge and expensive and shining _holy shit)_ ring in a black, satin box. Or the fact he had literally just asked Mac to marry him.

Dennis had been pushing into his space a lot recently--naked, on one occasion--and being weirdly insistent on Mac being gay, for some reason he couldn’t possibly fathom. It was probably because of what happened on the cruise. The almost-dying thing, not anything else. Because when people almost die, crazy shit happens, and it totally doesn’t count.

But his eyes were so blue. And his hair was so _nice._

His mouth worked wordlessly, a certain answer fighting like hell to force its way out against his will, but he finally managed to push that down and tell him; “I’m not gay.”

“Yes you are.”

“No I’m not!”

“Whatever.” Dennis snapped the box shut, and then stood up on his feet. “It doesn’t matter that you’re pretending to be straight again, because I don’t give a shit about that--or you, for that matter.”

Despite Dennis’ toothy--far too toothy, actually--grin, that hurt. Mac’s stomach twisted so sharply and suddenly it wouldn’t have surprised him if he puked, right there on Dennis’ immaculate shoes. They were supposed to be best friends, and nothing in this world mattered more to Mac than pleasing him, but it was becoming clearer with each passing day that the feeling was unreciprocated. The feeling of friendship, and nothing deeper, obviously. Just friendship. It was a good thing too, because if he were gay (which he wasn’t) and in love with Dennis (which he wasn’t) then he’d be in far more pain (which he wasn’t). In fact, Mac would go so far as to say that his heart would’ve been ripped, still-beating, from his chest, then torn in half, thrown to the ground, and then shat on, by Dennis himself, while the rest of the Gang took turns spitting on his shit-covered organ, then surgically stuck it back into his body so he would stay living because death would be far too easy and merciful after that blow.

Which was why it was such a good thing he was totally straight and only had platonic feelings for Dennis.

“What I care about is the reward money.”

“Whoa, whoa, what? You didn’t say anything about reward money, I just walked in and you proposed. I mean for a minute there I thought it was a dream ‘cause like, I’ve had a few that--” He stopped himself. Dreams didn’t mean anything, and while he had almost blurted excitedly; “Yes this is all I ever wanted!” it was _only_ because of societal conditioning. How many movies and stories had a rejected proposal? Everybody knew that if the marriage wasn’t meant to be, they still said yes, only to have someone else object loudly during the ceremony. “Uh, never mind.”

“Oh, didn’t we tell you?” Dennis looked around himself, face scrunched up in confusion.

“Tell me what?”

“Well in celebration of gay marriage being legalized nationwide, there’s a sort of Newlywed Game type thing going on and I know for a fact we could beat the shit out of all the other contestants. I know the celebration is coming out late, but we figured we shouldn’t judge since, you know.” He gestured at Mac.

“Exactly how much is the reward money?”

“Five hundred thousand dollars,” grunted Frank from his barstool. He swayed drunkenly on his barstool and he guzzled wine from his can sloppily. “Turns out one of Artemis’ lesbian lovers is a producer. She was telling me all about it last night while we were banging in the dumpster out back.”

“Oh is _that_ why there were so may homeless people jerking off there? Charlie and I were wondering what that was all about.” 

Frank made a quiet noise of assent and shrugged.

“We were all sitting around, discussing you, actually,” Dennis began, smiling genially at Mac, but in the way he always did as he was insulting those he thought were too stupid to get what he was doing, “and how goddamn irritating it was for you to come out as gay then hop back in the closet when all of us absolutely know what a bunch of shit that is because we’ve known you were gay for years, when Frank here told me about this little game and we thought hey, why not do a scheme? We haven’t done one of those in awhile, we need the money, they need contestants, and you and I have known each other for more than half our lives. All of the questions? For us, they’ll be trivial.”

Mac shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Not that he had been overcome with chest-exploding joy when Dennis popped the question or anything, but he had assumed it was a legitimate proposal. Now that he was in on the scheme and how fake it all was, it certainly brought him down a bit. It was a good idea, though, even if he didn’t particularly care. “Why ask me?” Maybe, deep down, it was because Dennis was in love with him? Not that Mac gave a shit or anything.

“Uh, besides the obvious?”

Mac rolled his eyes. “Yeah.” Why bother saying anything else? They wouldn’t believe him anyway.

For a brief moment, Dennis narrowed his eyes at him as if he hadn’t heard him right (and maybe he hadn’t; Mac had mumbled, after all). After that, he pointed over his shoulders. “Because Frank can’t re-marry his maybe-son and I can’t marry Charlie, he can’t read or write and so clearly he won’t be able to answer anything. There’s no way we could find a woman blind enough to find Dee attractive or willing to fake it by this weekend--”

“Hey! I’m not ugly! If anyone here’s ugly it’s Frank, you dick!” 

“--so that clearly leaves me and you, and we have, as I just mentioned, known each other half our lives.”

Mac twisted his mouth. “So it’s a fake marriage?”

“Yes, totally fake! Well, I mean, except for the paper documents and shit, we are actually going to legally get married, but Frank and Charlie got gay-married for benefits and shit, so why can’t we? I mean taxes alone make this whole thing worthwhile. But it’s fake and shit; I’d never _actually_ marry someone as in denial about his own sexuality as you are.”

For whatever reason, that stung. Whether it was the marriage being fake-but-technically-legit or Dennis’ comment about his so-called “denial” he didn’t know and it didn’t matter, but he may as well have slapped him across the face after sending an army of wasps to sting the hell out of him.

“C’mon, we need the money,” Dennis wheedled. If he wasn’t already in Mac’s personal space (which, well, they were always in each other’s space anyway) he would’ve been now. However, what was personal space with Dennis? He often spoke so closely with Mac their noses brushed. Which was how close they were now, actually. “I need you to do this. It has to be you, okay?” Biting his lip convinced Mac to forgive Dennis for being a dick the past minute, though he wasn’t going to examine how.

“Yeah, okay.”

* * *

Well, it was official. Mac and Dennis were, according to law, married.

Mac sat in the passenger seat of the Range Rover. Even if it wasn’t real except for in a technical sense, they both wore tuxes and wore cologne. All they’d done was go to the courthouse and say some vows while the rest of the Gang watched. They needed at least two witnesses, apparently. Mac had once changed his last name to Reynolds back when Frank adopted him for Family Fight and admittedly it had been a hell of a lot easier to adapt to that change than he expected. It had also been more disappointing than was expected or necessary when Frank had immediately reversed the adoption the day after they got back. Still, he had experience with the last name Reynolds, and the whole few days he’d been able to claim it he had regretted not taking care of his first name too, so he wasn’t about to make that mistake this time. It cost them extra money, but Frank had been (strangely) more than willing and the judge initially seemed reluctant, but a crisp check of an amount that Mac didn’t get to see but made the judge’s eye bulge and immediately become helpful as shit fixed that. Thus, he was now literally Mac Reynolds, and no longer Ronald McDonald.

To be honest it was the only exciting thing about the situation.

Mac was married. To a man. To Dennis. It didn’t mean anything. He wanted it to, God how he wanted it to mean something, but even when he “kissed the groom” it was void of emotion; hardly a peck, really. He may as well have puckered up against a wall. Examining why he longed for it to be more than a lengthy, boring process of filling out papers and changing names and repeating words spoken by a Justice of the Peace was a bad idea; that would lead him somewhere he was trying like hell to avoid.

But goddammit, he was fucking married to Dennis, and he’d spent the night before imagining scenarios involving music and big, blue eyes sparkling while one of them glided down the aisle, and maybe, just maybe, they would kiss and he could . . . like, check, or whatever? What would Dennis’ lips feel like against his? How would his heart react? Would Dennis stare at him the way he’d caught him staring at Tom Brady, or Maureen when they were in high school? Of course that had been too much to ask for. Of course it was just a quick trip, the way going to the grocery store for apples was. And really, that was what Mac wanted anyway, because he wasn’t into Dennis or men or anything like that, so yeah. It was great.

Dennis braked at a red light. “Gotta say, that was kind of a let down.”

Mac whipped his head to look at Dennis. “Holy shit, I thought that too!”

“Granted we didn’t exactly have a lot of time and we still have to fill out the audition forms--don’t forget I put the Marriage Certificate in the glove compartment, in case they need proof--but that was . . . _boring.”_

“I am so glad you said something dude because this whole time I’ve been sitting here like, bro, where’s the confetti? Where’s the music? And no offence, but I know you can kiss better than that.” Who didn’t want to check for himself just how good his best friend was at kissing? Like shit, if Dennis wasn’t perfect, maybe Mac could help him get better by critiquing his style, or Dennis could help him with his if he wasn’t perfect at it, too. It was probably beneficial.

Dennis nodded when the light turned green, and accelerated. “Well if we get that five-hundred grand, we could maybe do something a little better. Confetti, doves, a DJ. We could write our own vows, even. People do it all the time, renew their vows and shit. I personally would’ve liked to write my own but I just didn’t have the time, y’know? That’s the sort of shit you need weeks to finish.”

“You know what I think would be badass? Like, I think you should walk down the aisle--”

“That’s what I was thinking too, because when people get married, _everybody_ looks at the bride. Well clearly neither of us are women but walking down the aisle can’t just go to anyone; it takes a certain amount of poise, a certain amount of elegance, and that’s a lot of responsibility that I am more than willing, and able, to take on.”

“Right! Well yeah but before you do that, what if like, instead of me just walking up there before the ceremony, we get Frank to call up his helicopter guy and he lowers me down and I do like, a sort of backflip while someone sets off sparklers or something?”

Dennis tottered his head side-to-side, face scrunched up. “Ehhhhh, see I dunno about that Mac, I feel like that takes away the importance of the aisle-walker.”

“But _Dennis_ I want to do a helicopter thing,” he most emphatically did not whine. No, he simply _insisted._

“Hey man, I get that, I get that, and I can get behind that completely, but maybe you can sacrifice the sparklers? That’s a bit much, don’t you think? What if--now hear me out on this, Mac--what if we line the aisle with sparklers and we have, instead of some fucking lame-ass flower girl bullshit, we have someone walk down the aisle to light them before I walk down? Now we’d have to play the music really loud to cover up the sounds of the sparklers, but I think if done right, it could add a very romantic, yet badass, touch.”

Mac nodded excitedly, staring at Dennis while he stopped at the next red light. “Oh my God Dennis that would be so perfect! Because of course, we’d have to do a mix of romantic and badass, because that’s what _we are,_ dude! Like clearly I’m the bread-winner who does karate and kicks ass all the time, and you’re--”

“The trophy husband!” they both finished at the same time. They gazed at one another, Dennis grinning and eyes sparkling the way Mac had wanted to see him during their wedding. They laughed excitedly--Mac loved it when the finished each other’s sentences--with their eyes locked. Laughter faded away but they remained staring at one another, smiles slowly dissipating but Dennis’ expression softening. Mac swallowed a strange tightness down his throat. 

A horn blared behind them and Mac jumped.

“Jesus Christ, have some fucking patience you disgusting cow!” Dennis screamed, looking over his shoulder, and slammed on the gas pedal. (When had the light turned green, anyhow?)

Mac’s stomach spun and chest expanded warmly, even if the sudden acceleration forced him back into the seat.

* * *

Friday came quick, which Mac wasn’t too happy about because he was going to fucking vomit. He and Dennis stood in the dressing room, getting ready. Dennis stood in front of the long table with multiple mirrors lining it. There were hand creams and makeup littering it, Dennis going back and forth between various proffered foundation complaining about having to mix colours to get the right skin tone and upset that the mascara was too black and needed brown. He had said the hand creams were good earlier though, not that Mac really knew what that meant.

Mac faced the table with various vegetables and fruits and chips and dip on it for them to munch on, but he wasn’t going to eat anything. The way his stomach felt, it would come back up two seconds after it went down. This was so much different than being on Family Fight; that was judging how well you knew society, and who gives a fuck if you don’t understand some stranger in a mall? But this was Dennis, his best friend and blood brother and if he didn’t understand him, if he didn’t get him, then not only did that mean they didn’t know each but then marrying him was all for nothing, and there was no way Dennis wouldn’t get an annulment if Mac failed him and he would _hate_ him and be _disappointed_ and Mac tried so hard, _so hard,_ to keep their relationship afloat, and he put his heart and soul into being the bestest friend anyone could possibly have, and look good for Dennis, and smell good for Dennis, and more than anything he just wanted to spend the rest of his life with Dennis and that could be ripped away from him if he didn’t prove his worth. Besides, God _hated_ failures.

Mac leaned his hands against the table, staring down at a too-ripe pear, and breathed. Nothing had changed between them since their marriage. Sure, it had only been a few days, so maybe it wasn’t anything, but Mac hated that he wanted _something_ to change. Instead, they’d just gone about their days like . . . well, like they normally did when trying to scheme shit. 

Strong hands slapped down on his shoulders and began massaging. “You’re looking a little tense there, baby boy. Nervous?” Dennis’ voice was low, mouth beside his ear and chest vibrating with his words against Mac’s back.

“I’m not tense.”

“Dude, you’re hyperventilating.”

That probably explained the light-headedness. “Well, Dennis, it’s just, what if we lose, bro? What if we _lose?”_

Dennis massaged deeper and Mac lowered his chin so it rested against his chest. “Shhh, Mac. We’ve got this. Have we not been watching episodes of The Newlywed Game for the past several days non-stop, studying possible questions and going over our answers? We’ll be fine.”

Mac jerked out of Dennis’ grip so he could spin around and face him. “But what if we screw up, dude? I mean yeah we’ve known each other for a long time and you know me better than I know myself and most of these we can just be honest or whatever but like, dude, the sex questions! What if I forget where we had our first time? What if--what if I forget the craziest place we banged? We’ve never had sex Dennis! I’m gonna fail and you’re gonna hate me and God will--”

“Hey,” Dennis interrupted, holding Mac’s face and stroking his cheeks with his thumbs. “We’ve gone over those answers a hundred times and you’ve seen me have sex enough times to know how my face looks when I come. And I didn’t watch you jerk off ten times these past few days for no reason. I know how you sound, I know your O face, I know how hot you are when you come.”

“But God hates it when I lose!” 

“Don’t worry about God, okay?”

“Dennis, you can’t just _not_ worry about God, okay? He gave us a second chance at life, bro, after that cruise liner dude, it’s like, Dennis, we could die at any moment, you know? I don’t wanna go to hell!”

Dennis moved his head even closer, puckering his lips while he gently shushed him. “You’re not going to hell,” he whispered, eyes half-mast and pink tongue slipping out to moisten his shiny bottom lip. The fact Mac wanted to lean forward and capture that tongue with his mouth proved Dennis wrong.

“Yes, I am,” he breathed, voice cracking. “Dennis, I’m gay.”

Dennis sighed, eyes rolling heavenward. He didn’t let go of Mac’s face, though.

“Dude, I know you don’t believe me, but--”

“Oh, wait, seriously? That’s it?”

“Seriously dude, I’m super gay, and in love with you--”

“Wow, you’re not taking it back this time? ‘Cause gotta say, if you’re just gonna say you’re straight later--”

“Dammit Dennis listen to me!” Mac shouted, pulling away from him because being so close to him was tempting the ever loving shit out of him. He stormed over to the dressing area, where bits of tissue with smears of various foundations and subtly-pink lipstick mingled with blush applicators and tubes of mascara. He clenched his fists, stared into the mirror, and god, he was pale. He must’ve been running his hands through his hair too because his bangs were fluffed out and no longer slicked back. Christ, he was gonna be on TV and he looked nothing like the badass he was, and he was gay. This day wasn’t going well at fucking all. 

“I’m listening,” Dennis promised, coming up behind Mac. Standing behind him, hands on his shoulders again but massaging much gentler this time, they either looked like a married couple, or like Dennis was a scheming villain leading Mac down the path to hell with his seductive scent and intense eyes and good hair.

“It’s one thing to be gay but dude, I’m married to you now and we’re gonna go out there and be on camera and TV and talk about doing butt-stuff that we haven’t even done and like, okay, it’s one thing to just never, ever talk about it and never act on it and just like, think about stuff sometimes but this is serious Dennis, and if we don’t get that money then it’s like it was all for nothing and you’ll hate me and God is totally going to hate me, this was a bad idea we shouldn’t have done this! He is going to smite us okay? We are gonna get smited!”

“Look at me.”

“I can see you in the mirror, dude,” Mac gasped fearfully.

“No, I meant--Mac, turn around. Face me.”

Sighing, he did as Dennis asked. “What?”

One side of Dennis’ mouth curved upward in a half-smile. Dennis brushed Mac’s floppy bangs away from his eyes. “Would God have allowed gay marriage to be legalized nationwide if--”

“Last time I said He wasn’t real we almost fucking drowned!”

“No I’m not saying God isn’t real--I mean, I of course don’t believe in that shit in the slightest, but if God is real, which you believe, and He hated gay people, would He have made you gay and made gay marriage legal? I’m saying that God doesn’t _care_ if you’re gay or straight or bi or whatever. He’s okay with it, bro.” He brushed his hair away from his eyes again.

Okay, that actually did make sense, and was sorta-kinda similar to what those two gay married dudes on the cruise said, except less blasphemous. Sure, Dennis was probably going to hell because he said God didn’t exist but Mac wasn’t going to give up on converting him for as long as they lived. Every Sunday, first thing in the morning, Mac talked to him about Jesus and God and the Holy Mother and Dennis let him and maybe if he kept at it a few more months he’d actually not hate it anymore. That, he could change. Being gay, though? He’d been praying and praying and _praying_ for years and had even started asking Dennis to whip him any time he started having dirty, gay thoughts (for whatever reason it wasn’t working; if anything the urges were becoming more frequent) so maybe he really couldn’t change it (and holy shit, maybe the reason they were becoming more frequent and intense was because God was rewarding him for getting whipped with homosexual fantasies because being gay was okay!).

“You really think that?” Mac asked anyway, because Dennis was the smartest person he knew. “You really think God loves gay people?”

Dennis held Mac’s face again. He didn’t answer. Instead he leaned forward, eyes sliding closed.

The door burst open. “What’s up bitches?” Dee greeted.

Mac leapt away from Dennis, small of his back smacking the table. A bottle of perfume clunked to the floor, but didn’t break. Dee walked in, so goddamn smug that Mac wanted like hell to leap across the room and ninja kick the smirk off her face. He didn’t, though, because he was still breathless and his mouth tingled with a touch that never happened. This was worse than the time she interrupted them dancing to Chicago. Unlike then, however, he was going to pounce on Dennis as soon as she left.

She wore baggy jeans and one of Mac’s black shirts. The sleeves had been ripped off, but the neck was too wide for her. He could see the straps off her sports bra, but because of how baggy the shirt was it kinda made it hard to tell she had boobs so why bother at all? Her hair was pulled up and stuffed underneath Charlie’s Bob Dylan hat, and she wore a fake, blonde moustache.

“Goddammit Dee, what do you want?! You have to worst timing ever, Christ!” Dennis screeched, throwing his hands into the air. “You’re not even supposed to be back here! This is for _contestants only!”_

Dee whipped out a piece of paper--one that looked suspiciously similar to Mac and Dennis’ marriage certificate. “Boom! I’m Dee Kelly now. Suck on that, Dennis. Charlie and I got hitched a half hour after you two losers.”

“You’re not even a man, Dee! This is for gay dudes only!”

“Uhhh, yeah, that’s why I’m dressed like this, asshole, ’cause Charlie can’t look girly for shit. Oh and I just saw the other contestants, and they’re lesbians. Don’t be so sexist. Being gay isn’t a men’s only club.”

“You’re going to screw up the entire plan Dee! Goddammit!”

“I don’t give a shit about that plan anymore. You shouldn’t have said I was too ugly to compete, dickwad.” Smirking, she rolled up the marriage certificate. “Now if you don’t mind, I’m gonna go have sex with Charlie somewhere in this building so we can have another true-life crazy sex story to tell for the game. See ya later, boners.”

She left the room and Dennis screamed unintelligibly at the door.

“Uh, Den?”

“Oh that goddamn bitch! That bitch! Goddammit!” He kicked the bottle of perfume and it flew across the room, shattering against the closed door.

“Uh, Dennis?” Mac tried again, louder.

Dennis spun towards him, face red and eyes huge. “What?!”

Mac flinched, and stared at the floor. “Never mind.”

Dennis thrust his hands on his hips and breathed out long breaths. “What?” he asked again, much quieter.

He fidgeted on the spot, wringing his hands together. “You know how I said earlier that I was gay? I’m not.”

“Oh no, don’t do this. Don’t do this, Mac, come _on!”_

“Well dude listen! Earlier, when it was just a bunch of different gay dudes here, that was one thing because like, whatever, a gay married couple was gonna win either way, so if I failed it was all on me, right? But now, _now,_ it’s like, Charlie and Dee, and they’re a straight couple, and nowhere in the Bible does it say anything about women laying with other women, so now if I fail it’s because God is punishing us!”

“We’re not going to lose Mac!”

“But what if we _do?”_

Dennis flung his hands in the air and jerked right into his personal space. “What if we win, huh? What then? If we win this bullshit game does that mean I’m right?! Huh?!”

Mac frowned. Somehow that never occurred to him. “Actually, yeah. If we won, God would totally be saying it’s okay to be gay.”

“Are you fucking serious?”

“Yes!”

Dennis huffed. “Fine. Fine, then. We’re gonna win this competition and I’m gonna show you that God is totally fine with gay people because somehow him allowing gays to get married doesn’t mean shit to you but whatever, whatever, it all rests on this stupid game that Dee is trying to sabotage, but okay, fine, if we win then you’re gay, that’s just great, you coming out and staying out rests entirely on our luck suddenly changing from how shitty it’s been for, oh, our entire goddamn lives, but fine. Whatever. Sure.”

Guilt swirled around Mac’s heart. He had to stare at the floor because Dennis’ disappointment hurt; hurt enough it made him want to be gay, enough that an eternity in hell almost (but not quite) seemed farfetched. “Well, it’s in the Lord’s hands now,” he murmured. As always, he put his trust in God’s hands. Just because the answer wouldn’t be what he wanted didn’t mean that it wasn’t right.

He peeked at Dennis, who just pinched the bridge of his nose, so Mac went back to staring at the floor.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled. It wasn’t his fault God was the way he was! But you couldn’t just pick and choose what to believe, and as much as he wanted to think otherwise, there was no way in hell they’d win. But at least then maybe Dennis would see that he was straight and stop pestering him.

“It’s fine. Well, no, I mean, it isn’t fine, but it is what it is, but it doesn’t matter, because you’re looking pale as shit and we’re gonna have to put some makeup on you.”

To be fair, Mac really was pale as hell, so at least Dennis was helping him out of _that_ jam.

* * *

Dee buttoned up the pants she had stolen from Dennis. Not to brag or anything, but the whole “in nothing but jeans and a sports bra” look was really popping on her. Shit, if Josh Groban happened to see her now, he wouldn’t be able to contain himself. Well, except for she did have a fake moustache on. While Charlie’s Bob Dylan hat had fallen off mid-coitus and the bobby-pins securing her hair in place had sprung free so it was messily hanging down, even guys had long hair sometimes so if he saw her from the front he’d naturally assume she was a guy.

“I like that you wore boxers,” Charlie said, handing her the shirt she took from Mac because the endless supply of Dennis’ plaid button-ups somehow brought attention to her boobs.

“Making characters is all in the details, Charlie. I could’ve very easily got away with not wearing guy underwear, but it’s all about authenticity. And if we’re gonna steal this game show from underneath those assholes Mac and Dennis, then we can’t half-ass it.” She slipped into Mac’s shirt.

Charlie zipped up his pants. “Oh, we’re trying to win this thing? I thought that this was supposed to prove Mac was gay? Y’know, because Artemis’ girlfriend-person like let us join late as a favour, me and you and Mac and Dennis or whatever.”

She plucked the hat from the ground. “Of course we’re trying to win! Look, they were gonna have to go up against actual gay couples who are actually for real married and probably would’ve failed either way, but at least someone in the Gang is still getting money, and who deserves it more than us? And anyway, really, come on, do Dennis and Mac really need to win anything here? They’re assholes, and Dennis always gets everything handed to him anyway and out of everyone in the Gang we’re the only ones who have actually had sex with each other for real and they’re always coming down on us and giving us a hard time and Mac’s just gonna go back in the closet anyway.” Charlie still didn’t look like he was getting it, so she sighed and moved closer to him; close enough she could kiss him again if she wanted to and you know what? She just might. “Man, you and I have had the hardest time of it, you know? People are always screwing us over, insulting us, I mean we’re the only two who don’t own the bar in some way, I think we deserve the money more.”

For an intense minute, Charlie stared at her with a vacant stare, but then he nodded slowly. “Yeah, yeah, that makes a lot of sense,” he said, smiling at her. “Okay, okay, yeah I can get behind that, I can get behind that. But they’re like blood-brothers, how are we supposed to compete with that?”

She smoothed her hands down the front of his shirt. It was kinda hard to tell for some reason, and nobody ever expected it, but Charlie had a pretty nice body. Maybe next time they had sex she’d ask him to take his shirt off. “That’s why we brought your walkie-talkies, that way when we’re separated I can still hear what you’re saying. Besides, we had sex in a janitor’s closet so we could have a crazy sex story to tell, I mean this has gotta be worth more points that just watching each other jerk off like those two dickturkeys.”

“Well I dunno I kinda feel like banging in the bathroom of the courthouse like right after we got married was kinda better? And what about the time we banged in the vents at work?”

“That was so uncomfortable Charlie, don’t tell me you actually enjoyed it.”

“Well no, I didn’t, nobody would’ve, but like, it’s about craziness right? That’ll probably be worth more points, dude.”

Dee frowned. Actually, he had a pretty good point there. “That kinda makes sense, but ya know what? I think proximity got mixed up with crazy in this instance, but listen have you ever seen this show? Almost all the questions are about crazy sex you’ve had so it’s actually a good thing we had a ton of sex so now we’ve got stories! So what I think, we should open with this time, and then work our way up to the vent. We’ll definitely get a ton of points for the vent thing, so we better save that for the last round.”

“Okay, okay, good point, I get ya. So I gotta pile your hair up on your head ‘cause I can’t find your bobby pins.”

They both stepped forward, their chests pressed together. Charlie brushed her hair from her eyes, but instead of piling it on top of her head he just repeated the action. Dee smiled at him and let him continue to touch her hair, as if he were petting it, over and over. He smiled too, softly, eyes trailing over her face. Nobody but Charlie had ever looked at her that way before; she wasn’t quite sure what expression it was, but she liked it.

“Hey, uh, Dee?”

“Yeah?”

“Is it cool if we kiss sometimes? You know, ‘cause we’re married or whatever?”

Why were her cheeks so hot? Was he always this cute? “Well yeah, of course, I mean why get married if we’re not gonna kiss? We’ve exchanged fluids, Charlie, I think some lip action is right up our alley.”

“Okay, so can I kiss you now or . . . ?”

“I don’t see why not.”

He pressed his lips to hers, not for the first time. (Not even for the first time in the past twenty minutes, but they had been banging pretty hard then.) It was weird how good he was at kissing (and banging) but Dee sure as hell wasn’t going to question it. His lips were soft and he moved them against hers slowly. His hand slipped into her hair and pulled her closer, her eyes sliding closed. Charlie flicked his tongue against her bottom lip and her back hit the door--not hard, or roughly, more like he moved her against it from leaning into her too much.

“You have soft hair,” Charlie pulled away to whisper against her lips. For some reason, his voice made her shiver.

“Yeah, I know, it’s so weird,” she said, sneaking in some quick tongue action. “I mean yeah, normally my hair is nice, totally, but lately it’s like been even better than usual.”

“Oh I’ve been putting vitamins in your shampoo after I get done doing the Waitress’ stuff. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Don’t mind? Charlie!” Charlie winced. “That’s so sweet of you!”

He opened one eye, though his face was still squished up and shoulders drawn in. “Really? You’re not gonna freak out and get a restraining order?” She shook her head. “‘Cause I’ll be honest with you, and I’m not proud of it, but I’ve been sneaking around and doing stuff when you’re asleep, you know? Sneaking vitamins in your shampoo, killing rats or whatever, you don’t really have a lot but I’ve caught a few, and there was a spider and I killed it, I thought you’d get mad--”

“No, Charlie, I’m not mad!” She wrapped her arms around him, laughing.

Charlie giggled, wrapping his (stronger than they looked) arms around her in return. “All right! Well now I don’t have to hide it, well unless you’re sleeping I don’t wanna wake you up.”

“I’ll just give you a spare key. I mean we’re husband and wife now, so you should probably get one anyway.”

Charlie took a step back, though held her at arms’ length. “Actually I kinda wanted to talk to you about living arrangements? Because I like living with Frank, you know, and I know you’re kinda into the whole living-alone thing except for now Mac and Dennis have to live with you and you all sleep with Old Black Guy, so adding me to that would be too many people anyway and I know if they weren’t around you’d like being alone, so like . . . ? I mean, is it cool if I don’t move in with you and you don’t move in with me, we’re just married and live away from each other?”

“That would be perfect Charlie! See, this is why we‘re a good couple, I get you and you get me and you’re not trying to get me to do things the way everyone says I should and we work good together.”

“Yeah!”

“All right. But hey, you should probably get my hair stuffed back into your hat so we can get this little show on the road.”

“Okay, all right, but you’re gonna have to turn around because your face is really distracting up close ‘cause I keep wanting to stare at you and kiss you or whatever.”

She smiled and turned around. Charlie slipped his hands through her hair gently, but this time he did pile it up on top of her head (in a way reminiscent of having her hair washed at the salon). Marrying Charlie was probably one of her better ideas.

* * *

There was something attractive about Dennis’ expression when he was focused on something. Whether it was planning a scheme or Mac’s face or doodling one of his big-breasted fantasy ladies, it was . . . _hot._ There was no other word for it. Finding Dennis hot could be objective, and totally straight, but it could also be gay too. It depended on whether or not they won the prize for the game show. Maybe he was too optimistic, but he and Dennis had known each other for a long time, more than half their lives actually, and they lived together and talked about everything. Charlie and Dee had known each other since high school too, sure, but they didn’t hang out together, they didn’t check in with each other hourly, or any of that stuff. As for the lesbians, well, they could present a problem, but he doubted that they had known each other as long as he and Dennis had. It would be downright stupid to refuse to acknowledge the advantages they had.

Of course, they did have disadvantages too. The fact they weren’t actually married was one of them. Well, okay, so they were actually, legally married, but only technically. They hadn’t had sex or anything, but they had spent the past few days making up stories and lies. Being good liars could be an advantage over Charlie and Dee, but it wouldn’t ever be as potent as the truth, which the lesbians had going for them.

As for God? Mac wasn’t sure whether He would be an advantage or disadvantage. He hoped for advantage, but years of Bible study said otherwise. Wishing couldn’t change God’s mind. Picking and choosing was what democrats did, and God didn’t support liberal bullshit.

Unless that was wrong too, and God did support hippie douches? He had never thought to ask. He’d have to pray for it later, if they won the game. They probably wouldn’t. But maybe they would? Dennis had graduated from Penn State so he was the smartest person Mac knew, so maybe he did know a thing or two about Jesus.

Whatever. That wasn’t important. What was, however, was Dennis focusing on putting makeup on his face. He had already put foundation on, and he did that way better than Charlie had that time when they tried to start a news show. Now he worked on Mac’s mascara.

“Keep your eyes open. I won’t poke you in the eye bro, I have _years_ of practice.” He licked his bottom lip in thought, brows furrowed in concentration. “You know I gotta say, I’ve always been envious of your lashes. They’re beautiful.”

Mac grinned. “Really?”

“Yeah. Beautiful, just like you.”

“Seriously?” His chest was going to explode from how goddamn hard his heart slammed against his ribcage. “You mean that? You think I’m beautiful?”

“Uh-huh, absolutely.” Dennis pulled away, tilting his head back and forth. He bit on his lip, then leaned forward again and added more mascara on his right eye. After that, he stood back and nodded. He turned around and capped the mascara tube. “I wouldn’t marry just anybody, Mac. I love you, y’know?”

“Wait, you love me?”

“Of course. Like I said, I wouldn’t marry just--”

The door opened. Dee walked in with her arm draped around Charlie’s shoulder. They both glowed, grinning hard as shit, and maybe if this were any other day Mac would want to hear why Charlie was in a good mood (like he gave a shit about Dee) but not today. Fuck them, he wanted to win this goddamn game and they were doing whatever they could to screw up his afterlife. Because really that was what was happening, if he really stripped it down to its basest form: they were trying to ruin his afterlife. If he lost, then being gay was a sin, and . . . well, he wouldn’t go to hell because if that were the case he wasn’t gay, but they didn’t know that! Sure, since God was in the mix then whatever happened was meant to, but it was the principle of the thing. (The principle being that they were attempting to screw them over.)

“We had sex!” Charlie greeted. Weird, because if Mac had had sex with Dee, he wouldn’t be excited about it, but nobody ever accused Charlie of being smart.

Dee waggled her eyebrows. “That’s blowing your mind right now, huh?”

Dennis scowled at them in such a way that even Mac wanted to scoot away. “Of course it isn’t, Dee, you literally told us what you were doing twenty minutes ago. Besides, I heard you two banging in the vents at work. Did you think I didn’t know that? The marriage thing, I’ll admit, that got me, but--wait, why am I even _talking_ to you?! I hate you!”

Dee took her arm off of Charlie, but only to mimic crying with her fists. She walked towards them while Charlie went over to the buffet table. “Oh boo-hoo, did we ruin your little scheme? Well guess what, unlike you two, he and I are gonna get so many extra points from all our crazy, actual sex stories. I betchya the vent shit is gonna get us twenty points, if not more!”

“Goddammit Dee! Goddamn you!”

Anger burst Mac from his seat, and the next thing he knew he was standing in front of Dee and pointing right into her stupid, ugly face. (That moustache somehow made her even worse.) “You have no idea how badly I want to win this!”

She snorted. “Yeah, ‘cause you’re the only guy on the whole show who actually wants to win, ooooh ‘cause that makes sense.” She waved her hands around empathically.

“He’s right Dee! He thinks that if he loses God hates gay people!”

Mac stomped his foot. “Yeah! This whole game decides my sexuality Dee! That’s way important!”

“Oh Jesus Christ, like I give a shit about your stupid gay crisis! You know what? Now I really hope you lose ‘cause I’m sick of everything being about your stupid sexuality instead of about me and my life!”

Before Mac could shout some kind of insult at her, the door to the dressing room opened again. Two women stood there; both dark-skinned, though one of them was black and the other was brown. They were both thin with long legs; the brown woman had long, bleached-blonde hair and bright red lipstick, whereas the black woman had her hair pulled up in a tight bun and black square-rimmed glasses.

“Hi!” the black one said cheerily, walking quickly towards them. Charlie stayed at the buffet table, munching on cheese slices, while Dee, Mac, and Dennis all took a large step back. “I’m Susie, and over there is my spouse, Kelly.” She offered her hand.

Mac stared her down. Yeah right, like either of them were going to fall for that bullshit. One minute they’re shaking your hand, the next they’re stabbing you right in the chest to get rid of you. This was a competition. They were enemies. Who the hell did they think they could fool with that pretending to be civil bullshit? As if Mac wasn’t the best at ocular patdowns, and having given both Susie and Kelly fast look-overs, he could tell they were psychopaths who couldn’t be trusted. They were probably trying to get information out of them so the could sabotage their answers. Or kill them. They couldn’t compete if they were dead.

Susie’s hand wavered while they all stared down at her. Mac even flexed his muscles a bit; just let them try to get away with attacking them. They might be able to murder Dee, and if they made another move at them he was totally going to use her as a shield anyway, but Charlie would probably rip out one of their throats with his teeth and Mac would get the rest with his ability at ninjitsu or at the very least tae kwon do. Dennis wouldn’t have to do anything; it was Mac’s duty to protect his husband. Fake or real or whatever, nobody would touch a hair on Dennis’ head and get away with it.

Susie shifted her weight onto her other foot. Luckily she kept quiet and didn’t try to give them any more lies.

“Wow, you guys must take game shows seriously. I remember seeing you on Family Fight; it was funny as hell. So what are you guys like, professional game show goers or something? Hey, do you know if you’re allowed to take food home with you? I’m gonna stuff some of it in my pockets,” Kelly said, wandering over to buffet table beside Charlie. She wore khakis with deep side-pockets; she had clearly planned to steal the food ahead of time. Criminal mastermind, obviously; hell, maybe she even had a gun in there, or a knife. It was a good thing Mac hadn’t trusted her wife; who knew what else they’d managed to hide?

Susie’s smile stretched awkwardly over her white-teeth when they all continued staring at her. “O . . . kay, well uh . . . nice to meet you? What do, uh, you all do?”

Mac tilted his head back further and flexed his muscles even more. Man, these women were persistent. They sure as hell weren’t going to fall for it.

“We work at NASA. Actually, that’s where we met, Susie and I.” Kelly began stuffing some food in her pockets. “I can never eat when I’m nervous, but I’m always starving afterwards, so I may as well just keep it since I’m not gonna eat it now anyway, you know?”

Charlie came right up behind her, pressing his chest against her back. “That’s actually a good idea! Hey, I think I’m gonna shove some in my pocket too!” He stretched awkwardly so he could reach over her shoulder and grab the roll right next to the one she was grabbing.

Kelly tried to twist her way out from underneath Charlie, but he was shoved up against her so hard she didn’t seem able to do it. “Uh, you’re . . . standing really close? Could you maybe back up a bit?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, yeah, I just get excited you know? I don’t get to see this kind of expensive food a lot, I’m mostly into energy balls.”

Susie looked between him, Dee, and Dennis, then backed away. She went towards the buffet table. Charlie moved to the other side, far away from Kelly, and shoved handfuls of cheese slices into his pocket. Susie and Kelly immediately started whispering to each other and pointing at them--clearly they were scheming another plot, since whatever they had attempted to do had obviously failed. Please, and they thought they’d had the wool pulled over their eyes.

Dee caught Charlie’s eyes, and motioned him over to them. He waved her off, and pointed at the food. She motioned him over more insistently, but all Charlie did was just shake his head and point at the food again. Mac didn’t blame him, ‘cause hell, if he were completely honest, Kelly made a good point. He couldn’t eat now out of nervousness, but he’d be starving afterwards. Maybe if they left them alone for a minute he’d do the same. Charlie might not care, but Mac certainly wasn’t going to let them know she had a good idea.

“Whatever, leave him,” Dennis growled. “He probably wouldn’t understand our plan anyway. C’mon.” Dennis jerked his head towards the furthest corner. They all trudged over there. Mac, as the official security guard of Paddy’s (and protector of his husband, obviously), kept his eye on their enemy. Granted, they had only been on one game show before this, but that was one more than their lesbian enemies had done so they had that going for them. At least they had experience.

If Kelly and Susie could whisper their plans to take them down, then they all had the same right.

The three of them wrapped their arms around each other in a huddle. Dennis peeked over at their opponents, before leaning his head into the circle. “Okay, we have a real problem here. Did you hear what they said? They’re both from NASA. You know that means they had sex on the moon, and even I cannot compete with that. I’ll admit, banging in the vent is crazy, but it’s not space-crazy, if you catch my drift.”

Mac nodded emphatically. “Dennis is right. We have to get rid of them somehow. Now, I’m pretty sure me punching them is a hate crime ‘cause they’re lesbians, but Dee is a woman.”

“Yeah but I’m dressed as a guy today!”

Mac snorted. How could Dee be so stupid? As if he would’ve asked her to beat them up otherwise. “Tell everyone you’re a trans guy or whatever. Carmen knew like forty, there was a group she went to once a month. They exist, dude! ’Cause that way, if you have two minorities beating each other up, it’s completely legal.”

Dennis shook his head with a sigh. “While I get where you’re coming from, Mac, and trust me I would allow it under any other circumstances, and with Dee’s freakish pendulum-like legs she’d completely obliterate them, one’s black and the other one’s brown. They’re gay and not white. That’s double the hate-crime.”

“Shit, you’re right, Den. Okay, but what if--”

“Wait, why are we even talking to you Dee? You’re screwing us over! Get out of here!” Dennis shoved Dee out of the circle. She stumbled backwards, arms wind milling about insanely. “Go eat cheese with Charlie, Christ.”

“Oh, whatever guys, you know what, I hope that if me and Charlie don’t win, then they do because you guys suck. Last time I ever try to help you assholes.” She stomped off, making a beeline for Charlie.

With her gone, the relative privacy of where they stood became intimate. Dennis stood right in front of him, noses brushing, and instead of wrapping his arm around his shoulder, he held his face in his hands, thumbs stroking the side of his cheek. There was no way Mac was imagining just how often Dennis hit on him. He had always been flirty, sure, but this was more intense. Ever since the boat (Mac refused to acknowledge why) he not only did it more often, but just . . . _more,_ in general. Closer. Better. Sexier.

“Listen to me,” he breathed, voice low and doing things to Mac’s chest he always ignored, “I have an idea about how to get rid of Dee and Charlie. Once they’re out of the game, we only have to worry about Kelly and Susie. Now, I haven’t got much idea on what to do with that, I hadn’t anticipated them having sex on the moon or what have you, but this is what I have so far: they might have one crazier sex story than the multitude of stories we’ve concocted, but I think here, quantity might be our ally. Do you remember all our lies?”

“Yes.” He wasn’t sure if he actually said it out loud or just thought it. He did nod, however.

Dennis’ mouth curved upwards sinfully. “Remember how we went to DC for our honeymoon, and we _fucked,”_ he was so close, Dennis’ lips ghosted over Mac’s, “on the White House lawn?”

Mac swallowed and cleared his throat. He didn’t even try to speak; he would’ve fucked it up, anyway.

“Or when you blew me against the Washington Monument?” Mac nodded jerkily. “Good, because I didn’t describe to you in detail those fantasies while you jerked yourself for no reason. To be honest, I wish like hell we weren’t lying.”

Mac tried to ask; “Really?” because the concept that Dennis actually wanted to get blown and banged by him was so mind-spinningly amazing and reminiscent of a million dreams he’d had since meeting him that his first instinct was to distrust his hearing, but all he managed was a strange pitch-y noise.

“I want you, Mac, I want you inside me,” he practically growled, tilting his head to one side so his nose wasn’t in the way. They may as well be kissing, even with an inch of air between their mouths.

Mac whimpered. Holy shit, did Dennis really say that?

“When we win, and oh, we _will_ win, you are going to fuck me, and you’re going to fuck me right here, in this dressing room, and then we’re going to have the best goddamn wedding ceremony there is, do you understand? You are going to come out, and stay out, and I’m going to make you come so hard you forget your goddamn name.”

Mac attempted to murmur some kind of assent, but instead he just nodded, breathlessly grinning, rock hard and mind swirling. Maybe, just maybe, they could win, and maybe he was going to stick his dick in Dennis, and maybe they were going to have sparklers and helicopters at their wedding.

Then Dennis _licked his fucking mouth._

“See ya later, baby boy.” He smirked before sauntering away.

If Mac lost the game, he would never forgive himself. Hell, he might never forgive God, either.

* * *

They all stood off-stage, waiting to be called, and Mac was glad that Dennis had put foundation on because as sick as he felt he must’ve been pale as shit. He couldn’t have been the only nervous one (Charlie reeked of cheese, the lesbians were bouncing on the balls of their feet and holding hands, Dee kept muttering words and then touching her throat, and Dennis glared intensely at the other contestants) but winning the competition was everything to him. Regardless of how important it was for the others to win, it had to have meant more to him. It had to. His sexuality was on the line; it terrified him that depending on how well he answered questions he was either straight or gay.

It was stupid, really. Stupid that this show perpetuated the idea that you didn’t know enough about your spouse unless you could answer meaningless trivia about each other. Granted, he and Dennis probably knew more about each other than anyone else in the world, but what if he stumbled over his words? What if he told the White House sex story a different time than Dennis had anticipated?

A woman that Mac had seen with Artemis a few times came up to them. She wore big headphones over her ears with a small mic attached to it, though it didn’t seem to be on. Everything she wore was black. “All right, listen up: this is _not_ The Newlywed Game, but a knock-off we’re trying that caters to anybody who falls under the queer label; bisexuals, gays, lesbians, etc. We’ll air on public access if we decide it’s good enough, but regardless of whether it is the winner is going to win five-hundred thousand dollars. If you’re caught cheating, you and your spouse will be immediately disqualified. Do not leave the podium unless you are told to. You are not allowed to touch the other contestants, throw things, verbally or physically harass or assault them, otherwise you will be immediately disqualified. Also, given that Kelly and Susie identify as asexual and descriptions of sex are triggering to them both, we have removed all questions involving sex. Mentions of it will get you and your spouse an immediate disqualification.”

Charlie and Dee groaned, Dennis’ face went red and his jaw clenched so hard Mac worried his teeth would snap, but Mac . . . well, to an extent, Mac was happy because he and Dennis hadn’t had sex and now he wouldn’t have to worry about getting his lies mixed up. Now they could focus on things that had actually happened. Also, now they wouldn’t have to worry about the lesbians pulling the “sex on the moon” card and kicking their asses.

“For the first round, right answers get you five points, wrong answers get you zero. The second round, right answers grant you ten points, wrong answers lose you five. In the third and final round, right answers get you twenty and wrong answers cost you ten. In the event of a tie, we will ask a question. First to answer wrongly loses. Any questions?”

Dennis raised his hand.

“Yes, uh,” she peered at the name tag on his chest (they all had one), “Dennis?”

With one smooth motion, Dennis tore off Dee’s fake moustache and whipped off the Bob Dylan hat. Her blonde hair fell messily past her shoulders and the skin above her lip was red.

“Oh goddammit Dennis!”

“Dee isn’t a man!” Dennis shouted triumphantly.

“Wait! Wait! I’m queer! Yeah! Both Charlie and I are bisexual! Just because we’re in a straight marriage doesn’t mean we’re straight!”

The woman that Artemis knew pinched her lips together. “This is specifically--”

“Did you or did you not say that this was for bisexual people too?” Dee asked.

“Well, I did, but--”

“Don’t be biphobic,” Kelly snarled, folding her arms across her chest and glaring at Artemis’ (probably?) lover. Wow, an enemy coming to her opponent‘s aid. How was that for an M Night Shyamalan twist? “Not every queer person is monosexual or monoromantic and polysexual people are still valid even if they’re in a different-gender relationship. Also, it’s clear Dee is in some way genderqueer.”

Mac didn’t know what that meant, but Dee pointed at Kelly and said; “Yep! Yep, that’s totally me right there, I’m such a genderqueer, like whoooaa man, am I ever that!” Mac had a feeling she didn’t know what it meant, either.

Artemis’ friend sighed. “Okay, but--”

“Stop being transphobic,” Kelly continued. “I’m genderqueer, should I leave because yesterday I was having a boy day?” She tossed her bleached hair over her shoulder and widened her eyes in a way that reminded Mac of Dennis. She would’ve been terrifying if one of her pockets hadn’t been bulging because of the food she’d stuffed in there earlier.

Artemis’ lover (what the hell was her name? If they had to wear ugly nametags then she should have to, too!) blinked rapidly, staring between Dee and Kelly. “Well, no, but Dennis--”

“Is clearly transphobic and biphobic--”

“I’m bisexual, you bitch!” Dennis screamed.

Kelly stood up straighter, tilting her jaw upward. “Probably sexist, too.”

“All right, fine.” The woman stared at all their chests. “Dee and Charlie can stay. Probably for the best anyway, it would be a boring game with only two contestants.” She glared at Dee, who just smirked at her. “We have a few minutes if you want to fix your hair. Be quick, and come out when you’re called.”

Dee and Charlie high-fived each other, and she hurried off, presumably to do as the woman asked. (Sandy! Mac remembered because Frank had made so many ridiculous “Pecan Sandy” jokes that were idiotic and nobody laughed at but him.)

Dennis put his hands on his hips and stared at the floor. “Dammit.”

* * *

Mac and Dennis stood arm to arm behind the podium. The host (who was an overweight Asian man that had a thick British accent) had introduced them by name as they waved and ran across the stage, then did a quick explanation of what the show was about towards the camera and audience. For a minute, déjà vu whirred enough it made Mac uncomfortable, but they had been on a game show before (which accounted for the déjà vu) and the nausea had nothing to do with that, but the fear of losing the game. Dennis had glared, red-faced, at the other contestants until they were called from off-stage (they were called last) where he smiled genially towards the camera. He chuckled politely when the host made a joke, even though Mac was sure by the way his laughed pitched up awkwardly at the end and his eyes widened angrily for the briefest of moments it was fake. Mac only picked it up because, well, Dennis was his best friend (and husband).

Now, he stared out at the live studio audience behind the camera. God he hoped that he wasn’t sweating too obviously.

“Awright, why don’t you all introduce yourselves, then?” the host said, pointing over at Kelly and Susie.

“Well I’m Kelly. I’m a gyneromantic asexual genderqueer. Today I’m going by she and her pronouns. I consider myself a foodie, enjoy travelling, and graduated from Berkeley with a Masters in Mathematics. I currently live in Texas with my wife, Susie.”

Mac and Dennis shared a look and rolled their eyes. Over Dennis’ shoulder, he saw Dee and Charlie do the same. Dee even made an obnoxious farting noise and gave a thumbs down. (Her hair was combed now and her makeup was dark in a way that she probably thought looked ethereal but in Mac’s opinion made her look like a hooker taking inspiration from seaweed.)

“If we win,” she continued, “we’re going to use the money to artificially inseminate Susie with my older brother’s sperm.”

Susie smiled and grabbed Kelly’s hand, holding it between them. She even gave her a soft peck on the cheek. The audience awww’d. God, this was supposed to be on public access, not the Lifetime Channel. “And I’m Susie. I’m a panromantic a--”

Dennis slammed his hand down on the podium. “Objection!”

The host stared at him. “Uh, this isn’t--”

“Sustained! Move to strike!” Charlie shouted excitedly. 

“We cannot possibly allow someone who is romantically attracted to kitchenware participate in a game show celebrating love between humans. That’s ludicrous! I demand immediate disqualification.”

“I’m not attracted to pans,” Susie snapped, whipping her head towards Dennis so sharply Mac was surprised her glasses didn’t fly off of her face. “Why are you being such an ass?”

“Objection!” Charlie shouted. “Hearsay!”

“I’m not attracted to pans! I’m attracted to all genders!”

“Let’s try to get through all these introductions without interruptions, awright?” the host offered, smiling at them all. “Now, where were we? Susie?”

“As I was saying,” she glared at Dennis, “I’m a panromantic asexual who graduated from the University of Texas with a Masters in Engineering. I met my lovely spouse while we were both working at NASA. I decided to become an astronaut at the age of eleven when looking through my mom’s collection of horoscopes. I knew it was true love when I stared at Kelly more than I did the stars.”

Again, the audience awww’d. Mac snorted. Dennis mimicked sticking his finger down his throat and gagging.

“And what about you two lovely people, then?”

“I’m Dee. Dee Kelly, because I married this guy.” She pointed her thumb towards Charlie and waggled her eyebrows. “I’m a bisexual gender, uh, queer . . . person. I like to drink beer, I’m a waitress at Paddy’s Pub--”

“Waitron,” Kelly (somehow gently) interrupted. Dee simply stared angrily. “It’s a gender-neutral term for someone who waits at a bar or restaurant.”

“Okay, I don’t remember asking you for that information but whatever. So as I was saying, I work at Paddy’s Pub, you might have seen my exemplary work there, but I also have a pretty lucrative career in acting. I met my husband all the way back in high school, but we didn’t start dating until much, much later, but we’ve known each other for a hell of a lot longer than you guys so pew pew pew kaboom!” As if the sound effects weren’t obnoxious enough, she mimed shooting a gun with her index finger then an explosion with her arms.

Kelly and Susie shook their heads at her.

“And I’m Charlie Kelly.” He grinned at the cameras and winked in an over-the-top manner.

They all waited.

“Is there anything else?” the host asked.

“Oh! I love my wife-husband a lot.” He kissed her cheek.

“Aww, I love you too Charlie.” Dee wrapped her arm around Charlie’s shoulder in a one-armed hug.

The audience didn’t react.

The host waited another second before turning towards them. “Okay, er, well, that’s that then, for them. What about you two?”

Dennis nudged him with a wink. “You can go first, baby boy.”

Mac swallowed around the nervousness that swelled uncomfortably in his throat. Oh, shit. What was he supposed to say? “I’m Mac Reynolds. I met Dennis in high school ‘cause I was selling weed behind the bleachers at school and I sorta ratted out all the other dealers so he kinda had to go to me to get some. But we didn’t start dating until, um. Recently, I guess? There was a . . . boat thing.” Shit, no. That wasn’t right. “No! I meant, that’s when he proposed and why we got married like, a week later, ‘cause we freaked out. But we’re also sorta brothers, because one time, Frank--that’s his dad, but not really--adopted me so we could all go on Family Fight, but then we had Charlie’s uncle reverse the adoption right after, so I dunno if that even counts. But that was before Dennis and I were dating.”

“Also, he’s gay,” Dennis added.

Mac’s cheeks burned, but he didn’t deny it. After all, they had to say he was to be on the show, and he very well could be.

“I’m his husband, Dennis. I’m bisexual, and I love this man more than anyone has loved another person since the beginning of time.” He grabbed Mac’s hands and faced him, staring at him with sparkling eyes and a soft smile. “I knew since the moment I procured his dank as shit weed that we were meant to be, but alas, then was not the time for us. I had my wild oats to sew for the next two decades, as it were, and he was ridiculously closeted. Luckily for him, I was there to help him through his religious conflict. You know they always tell you to marry your best friend, and I guess I’m lucky enough that I could.” He brushed the back of his hand down Mac’s cheek. It was obviously an act (one that Kelly and Susie totally deserved because where the hell did they get off thinking they could show them up?) but Mac could pretend it was real.

Maybe it was, though. Just because he was putting on a show for the crowd didn’t mean there wasn’t some truth behind it.

Dennis lowered his hand and then faced the crowd. “Oh, do I not get an aww?”

The audience remained silent.

“Whatever, I don’t even give a shit.”

“Right, well, this is public access so we’ll have to censor that, but could you from now on try to keep the language PG?” the host asked, fidgeting in his spot.

Dennis waved dismissively at him. “Yeah, yeah.”

“Awright, we’re about to start the first round of questioning, so--”

“I HAD SEX WITH DEE IN THE VENTS AT PADDY’S!” Charlie burst, face red as it would’ve been had he been holding his breath. (Perhaps he had.)

“Goddammit Charlie!”

The host sighed and shook his head. “I’m sorry to say Dee and Charlie, but you two will have to be disqualified due to--”

“Kelly has a walkie talkie in her pocket!” Charlie shouted excitedly, jogging in one spot while he pointed at her.

“No I don’t. Seriously, I mean I did stuff some food in here but that’s . . . .” She reached into her pocket and her face fell. She pulled out Charlie’s walkie talkie. “I didn’t put that in there! I swear to God this isn’t mine!”

The host reared his head back. “Well, it seems you two have been disqualified for cheating. I suppose that means we have our, er, winners then?”

“No! I swear this isn’t mine!”

“Holy shit, we won, Mac!”

Mac blinked. What the fuck? Was he hallucinating? Had he misheard, because seriously they hadn’t even played the game yet, so it had to have been some kind of weird dream or misunderstanding or--

Nope, they had totally won. Susie and Kelly were openly sobbing into each other’s arms, Charlie was munching on a roll he had taken from his pocket, and big, beefcake security guards were holding back a kicking and screaming Dee from launching herself at Dennis. Tickertape rained from above and music fanfared all around them; literal fanfare, as in a recording of trumpets blasting a victorious tune was literally playing on the speakers, and two shirtless men walked out, holding a ginormous check for five-hundred thousand dollars.

“We just won,” Mac stated, the words feeling foreign as they toppled from his tongue. The audience cheered, though not as loudly as the music played. Dennis clapped his hand on Mac’s right shoulder, laughing beside him, and they had won. They won! They had fucking won! “Oh my God Dennis, we won. We won!”

“I know!”

“Dennis! We just fucking won!” he screamed, whipping out of Dennis’ grasp on his shoulder so he could face him. “I’m gay!” he announced, as loudly as fucking possible.

Dennis laughed as a response, and Mac smashed their lips together. Dennis responded immediately, hands clasped on either side of Mac’s face. Mac’s heart shot straight into his throat and then rocketed to his knees. Dennis’ perfectly manicured fingers were soft against his cheeks, as soft as his lips pressing against his. He smelled so good, and he felt even better. He never should’ve doubted God; doubted all the times he had sent him signs that being gay was okay, like why else would he find male butts so hot? Why else would he have dreams about beefcakes that left him waking sticky and sweaty? Dennis wouldn’t be so intoxicating, so beautiful and badass and the most attractive, best friend ever if God hadn’t wanted Mac to fall helplessly in love with him.

They pulled away from each other, and Mac nearly fainted. Kissing Dennis was the best thing ever!

“I told you we’d win.” He kissed Mac again, softly. All it took was the soft press of lips for Mac to hum. Dennis smirked against him. “Ready for your prize baby boy?”

* * *

Mac kicked the door to the dressing room open. Like straight up, busted that shit down. (First he turned the knob, though.) The second they were in the room, Dennis pushed him against the ajar door (huh, it hadn’t opened as much as he thought) hard enough it slammed shut. Dennis jammed their lips together, tongue shoving past his teeth.

For as many years as Mac had longed for this, there were just as many years of him channelling that starvation into pumping up and banging women. It was far more productive to practice spin kicks than imagine various scenarios in which he could be making out with his best friend. Judging by the way Dennis was whimpering and gasping, he’d been begging for it, too.

Dennis’ hands roamed all over his body; his chest, his face, his arms (mostly his arms). He was so warm, so amazing. The sticky-smooth feel of lipstick slid across his mouth, toothpaste-y mint strong on Dennis’ tongue. So many dreams that had him waking with a rock hard dick and fantasies that had him running to the bathroom for a quick jerk spun through his mind. If only he had known that God wanted him to be gay all those years ago, he could’ve enjoyed his spank bank material a hell of a lot more. Or, well, since being gay was okay, he could’ve just actually went and been gay with Dennis. For years. They could’ve been shoving each other against walls and doors and kissing each other and banging for, hell, a decade. Maybe more.

But then they probably wouldn’t have just won five hundred thousand dollars either. God worked in mysterious ways.

“Hey, hey,” Dennis murmured, before pulling away. “You’ve sucked dick before right? If not I’ll teach you. I just really want you to suck my dick.”

They hadn’t been kissing for long, yet he was already breathless. “Uh, yeah, I mean there was the time at the Rainbow, and--”

“That’s fine, that’s great, you know the mechanics.” He kissed him again, mouth swollen and wet and insistent. Dennis really loved kissing, apparently. 

Actually, Mac loved kissing too. Kissing Dennis, at least. His heart tap-danced to the beat of pounding bongos in his ear and a strangely soft electricity swirled across the skin of his arms. The back of his neck prickled with warmth and spread down his spine and pooled in his stomach. It was hot chocolate on a rainy day or slipping into a hot bath in the midst of winter in candlelight.

Mirroring Dennis’ moans and grunts, nipping and sucking at his bottom lip, was everything he ever wanted. It was as if every single choice he’d ever made in his entire life had led to this moment; the moment where he was sandwiched between a hard door and an equally hard Dennis. He pushed their pelvises together, needing the friction.

Dennis pulled away again, hands gripping Mac’s shoulder. “Okay, you need to give me head before I get distracted with your mouth again.”

Mac nodded. “Sit down, then.”

Instead of running to the chair by the vanity table, Dennis coaxed Mac’s mouth open with tiny bottom-lip licks. Mac sucked on it eagerly, fisting the collar of Dennis shirt. They were both moaning and whimpering like idiots, but for as long as they’d held back their desires he was surprised they’d managed to make it to the dressing room and hadn’t stripped each other right there on the stage. (Years of tension fuelled their intensity, sure, but it didn’t turn them into Artemis and Frank.)

Whether Dennis or Mac led the other didn’t matter, because either way they made their way to the vanity, Mac unbuttoning Dennis’ blue plaid shirt as they went. Dennis went straight to cupping Mac through his jeans and rubbing his so-hard-it-almost-hurt dick.

Mac shoved Dennis into the chair impatiently.

“Hmm, yeah, push me around, I love it when you’re bossy,” Dennis said huskily, tilting his head back and spreading his legs. His shirt was opened, baring his perfectly chiselled and tanned chest, with just the right amount of hair sprinkling across his pecs.

Mac dropped to his knees. “No you don’t, you always get mad at me when--”

“Things are different in bed, bro.”

Mac undid Dennis’ pants, and his cock sprung free. He had shaved all of his pubic hair, and wasn’t wearing any underwear. Dennis often did one or the other, but rarely did he do both unless he knew for sure he was getting laid that day.

He held his dick in his hand; it twitched with Dennis’ pulse. The skin was silky smooth stretched across an iron hardness. The skin slipped easily in his hand while he loosely, softly stroked it. His cheeks and hands and ears and, fuck, his entire body burned. He may have previously associated that feeling with shame, and maybe a small part of it was residual from years of wrongfully assuming being gay was a sin, but it only enhanced his excitement.

He slid his palm across Dennis faster, holding it tighter. Dennis pumped his hips into his fist, head lolling against the back of the chair with tiny grunts.

Well, and a little bit of nervousness. Sucking off a stranger in a club while simultaneously fucking another in the ass while some woman (her and her husband were bisexual swingers, they had said before attacking him with kisses) licked Mac’s crack and another guy jerked off while watching and then shot all over them was one thing. He had also had a bit of ecstasy to help quell his nerves then because, well, the whole gay thing, and it was totally different from kneeling in front of Dennis completely sober.

He licked the tip. Dennis breathed in quickly. He didn’t quite know why he was so tentative; he had even started blowing Carmen once, but she had pushed him away after a few minutes because she said it made her feel dysphoric. Then again, one and a half times wasn’t exactly much, so what if he wasn’t any good at it?

He licked it again, and again. It tasted like skin, somewhat tangy but that was the pre-cum that had just started to leak. Dennis was already that far? That wasn’t too surprising, though, because he had practised hand jobs on himself for years, and as unsure as he was about sucking it, he wasn’t at all about stroking it.

He peppered the head with kisses and tiny tastes. It wasn’t much longer after that he started sucking the tip, if only for a second at a time. Finally, knowing that if he wasn’t doing well Dennis would just tell him, he swallowed his thick, long dick as far as it would go.

“Oh my _God,”_ Dennis whined, shoving his cock down his throat. “Fuck, that’s so good.”

The guy he had sucked off at the Rainbow had cursed in amazement, too, and hadn’t believed him when he said he hadn’t done it before. (Explaining that he had only halfway sort of in a way done it for a little while with his ex-girlfriend was too complicated and lengthy for some guy he barely met, especially when that woman was fingering his ass. At the time he was okay with it because it somehow made the whole thing “less gay” but he hadn’t really enjoyed it at all, and was more than glad when she pulled them out and left with her husband.)

He knew what he liked getting done to him, but that wasn’t all, either: he had spent years wanting to do nothing but this. Wanting nothing more than to have a dick in his mouth, wanting to feel it choke him and the skin slip across his tongue and know that the person was moaning for more because of him. For years he had practised on bananas and cucumbers and Dennis’ dildos (Dennis hadn’t asked why Mac wanted to borrow them; he had simply cleaned them before handing them over) and he’d convinced himself it was all theoretical; that, if he were to be gay he could kick ass at sucking dick, but he totally wasn’t gay it was just ironic, you know? But fuck all that, he was gay and proud of it and God had wanted him to be all these years, so hell, maybe God had been helping him practise for this exact moment, so that when he finally got Dennis’ dick in his mouth he was good enough to have him moaning and pulling on Mac’s hair and telling him how great he was doing.

“Stop, stop,” Dennis gasped.

Mac gagged before pulling back; a thick string of saliva and pre-cum connected Dennis to his bottom lip.

“Oh, fuck, that’s so hot,” Dennis murmured, pupils huge against his blue irises and sweaty chest heaving with breath.

“Was I not good? I thought you sounded like I was doing good.”

Dennis smiled. “You were great, far better than I expected actually, I can tell you’ve wanted this for awhile, but . . . I don’t want to come in your mouth.” His smile melted from cute to devious in the matter of a second. “I want you inside me, Mac.”

Mac was already straining against his zipper and aching from arousal, but if he hadn’t that would’ve done it. “Okay,” he breathed.

“How do you want me?”

“I want to fuck you from behind. Face the mirror.” Dennis did like look at himself, and why not? He was hot.

They both stood, Dennis from the chair and Mac from the floor. Dennis pushed his jeans down to his ankles and planted his hands on the vanity, scattering tissues he’d used while applying both his and Mac’s makeup. He spread his legs as far as they would go. “Use the hand cream for lube.”

Mac whipped off his belt, unbuttoned, and unzipped his pants as quickly as he could. He would’ve done it even faster, but he had fumbled on his zipper twice. He shoved his pants down, and fell forward, smacked his cheek against the floor, ass up in the air.

“Are you--”

“I’m fine! I’m fine!” Mac hurriedly got up, but almost tripped again. Cheeks burning, though this time from embarrassment, he took off his shoes and then kicked his pants away.

Dennis waited patiently. In fact, they met eyes through the mirror and Dennis lopsidedly smiled instead of mocking him. Wow, Dennis must really love him.

Seeing as he’d taken off his pants, he may as well get rid of his shirt, too. He flung that somewhere across the room. He spun off the lid to the hand cream and took a glob of it out. He wasn’t quite sure how much was needed.

He stroked his dick, slicking it. The cream was cold, but he didn’t care. He was sure Dennis could warm him up.

“Is that enough?”

“Yes.”

“Well then hold on Dennis because you’re about to get fucked.”

He grabbed Dennis’ waist with one hand, and held his dick in the other. He pushed into Dennis. Dennis arched his back and Mac groaned in relief. Dennis was so _warm_ wrapped around him, and wow, he was actually having sex with his best friend; no, his _husband._ His best friend _and_ husband.

“It’s so good,” Dennis moaned, back against him.

“Holy shit, I’m actually fucking you.” He slowly pulled out, staring at the way Dennis’ hole clung to him, wanting to pull him back inside, and then pushed, just as slowly in. Dennis grunted when he was all the way inside, and clenched, squeezing his shaft. “Oh Dennis, Dennis, I’m in you, _I’m in you.”_

He pulled out then shoved in, hard and fast, and Dennis cried out, throwing his head back. “Yes! Yes, do that again!”

So he did.

While Mac had only done this once before, Dennis had probably done it loads of times. At least with his multiple dildos, but if he was sticking dildos up his ass then he was probably getting men up in there too. Mac was nothing if not competitive, and clearly he’d never be able to compare himself to all the women he had banged, but he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to be the best guy he’d ever fucked.

He slammed into him, and Dennis shouted out every single time. He clutched uselessly at the counter, nails scrabbling at the polished wood. Mac stared at him through the mirror; his face was red and shiny with seat, his bangs messy and damp. With every shove into him, he bucked forward, opened shirt flapping with his movements. The vanity banged against the wall behind it, at first once every second until they gradually worked their way up to a constant, erratic boom-boom-boom with Dennis’ cacophonic shouts and swears and incoherent vowel sounds. Mac was grunting and gasping along with him, and god, pounding into his ass was possibly the best damn thing he’d ever felt in his life, but Dennis really got into it.

Like, _really_ into it.

Mac stopped. Dennis kept backing into him, his hole clenching and unclenching to what Mac imagined was his pulse.

“What, why’d you, why’d you stop?” he gasped, swallowing so loudly Mac heard it. He turned his head to look over his shoulder at him. “I know you haven’t come yet.”

“Does that feel good?”

“Dude, I thought I was making myself pretty fucking clear, and I’m close to shooting off, so don’t stop.” He pushed back against him, hissing between his teeth.

He stood still, though Dennis continued fucking himself. “I mean, someone being in you. Being fucked. In the ass. Bottoming. Does it feel good?”

“Dude, you are going to _love_ it. Now hurry up, I’m almost--”

Mac, instead, pulled out.

“Mac, come _on,_ don’t do this, don’t go back in the closet,” he whined, thunking his head against the wood. “Goddammit.”

“I want you to fuck me.”

Dennis’ head snapped up. “What did you say?”

“I said I want you to fuck me. We’re married, right? I should lose my ass virginity to you, bro.” He sat on the vanity, like a kid would the kitchen before getting shouted at by his mother, shoulder pressed against Dennis’. “So get between my legs and fuck me.”

Dennis waddled over to him (Mac had forgotten that his pants were still around his ankles) then stood between his knees.

“Oh, and take off your shirt. You have amazing pecs.”

Dennis whipped his shirt of as impressively as he flung it to the floor. “I’m not gonna lie to you, Mac. It’s gonna hurt a bit at first, but if you keep with it, god it feels _amazing._ Now spread your legs.”

Mac complied and scooted so that his hole was facing Dennis instead of on the wood. He almost toppled over, but managed to steady himself by resting on his elbows. The back of his head touched the mirror. His cock bobbed with each heartbeat, still slick from when he had been fucking Dennis.

“What have you been doing with my dildos if you haven’t been riding them?” he asked, dipping two fingers into the hand cream.

“I was practising blow jobs.”

“That explains a lot. You’re a pro at deep-throating.” His fingers circled Mac’s hole. He winced at how cold it was. “Just gotta open you up, baby boy. Don’t panic.”

“I don’t like getting fingered. Some chick tried it once, I wasn’t into it.”

“Ah but that’s where you went wrong: a girl did it. You’re gay. And as I’m sure you know,” he shoved his two slippery fingers inside, “I’m all man.”

It didn’t hurt, like it had at the bar. It was vaguely uncomfortable, but it wasn’t horrible. It didn’t really feel much like anything, really.

Dennis curled his fingers.

“Oh,” he breathed, back arching.

Now _that_ felt nice, but in a way he couldn’t really pinpoint. His stomach stirred, his still-hard and pleasure-reddened dick tingled, and his body tried to push itself down on Dennis’ fingers again.

Dennis began a slow and comfortable in-and-out rhythm. Every time his fingers moved over a certain spot, they pressed against it and a shock of pleasure shot through him. His dick ached from the teasing, somehow, so Mac reached for it. Dennis smacked his hand away. “Not yet,” Dennis reprimanded, then spread his two fingers out.

That stung a little, but when he rubbed over that spot right after it made up for it. Mac’s quick, loud breath hitched when Dennis pushed against it harder, then scissored his fingers again.

Dennis masturbated with his other hand, biting his lip and tilting his head back. Mac looked at him, an admonition on his lips because if he couldn’t jerk off then Dennis shouldn’t either, then he heard and saw that Dennis was actually slicking himself with hand cream.

He was about to get fucked, then.

“I’m gonna slip it in you, nice and easy, okay buddy?”

Mac nodded.

Dennis pulled his fingers free then pushed his cock in. Mac whined. It hurt, though not as much as he had expected. Still, it stung and burned. Somehow, though, pleasure mixed in with the pain in a confusing way. When Dennis’ balls touched Mac, he wasn’t entirely sure he liked it.

When Dennis pulled back, then just-as-slowly slid back in, eyes squeezed shut and mouth dropping open, Mac changed his mind: he fucking _loved_ it.

There was something inside him that sang every time the head of Dennis’ cock pushed by, his shaft rubbing against it; that same place Dennis had touched with his fingers. Despite the (dulling) pain, that feeling made every push worthwhile. Mac let out a breath of half-relief, half-pleasure every time Dennis pushed in. 

Dennis’ arms framed him by the shoulders, and Mac wrapped his arms around his neck in a hug, pulling him closer. Dennis shook a little bit more with each passing moment, slowly dragging his dick out then sliding it back in. He was holding himself back.

Mac jerked his hips up, slamming Dennis against that spot harder, and he shouted; not from pain, but solely from pleasure. “Jesus Christ,” his whispered, then did it again.

“Feels good, huh?”

“Oh yeah.” He did it a third time, but even harder. “Fuck me,” he ordered. (Or was it begged?)

Dennis did exactly that.

He slammed into him, though not as hard as Mac had seen him do in his videos. Pleasure sped up his spine and pooled in his gut and spread through his chest all at once. The force of it dug the small of his back against the edge of the vanity, but Mac was only vaguely aware of it.

He wrapped his legs around Dennis’ waist and squeezed him inward. “Fuck me!” he shouted. (That time, it was definitely an order.)

Dennis ploughed into him (again, not as hard as he had seen in the videos, but pretty fucking hard and fast, at least enough that sometimes it actually did hurt but the pleasure overlapped it) and shouted his name, over and over.

Mac decided he loved the way his named sounded when raspy with want.

Dennis sped up, his thrusts getting more and more erratic, and Mac was meeting him, trying to grind his dick against Dennis’ abs which was also serving the purpose of grinding his thick cock right against that spot Mac knew was put there by God to prove he was gay because why the fuck else would it feel so good to have it prodded, hmm?

Mac clasped Dennis’ face with his hands and pulled him into a sloppy, uncoordinated kiss. Dennis hummed and moaned against him, kissing him for only seconds at a time before gasping for air and returning to his lips, mouths insistent and hot against his.

The vanity banged against the wall and their shouts and grunts filled the room. Mac could no longer focus on kissing so he scrabbled his hands across Dennis’ back, trying to grab onto him because holy shit, pleasure was building inside him like never before, and every time he fucked into him and slammed him against that stupid edge it was like sending him straight off to the moment right before release. So many times he had thought he was close to coming but he hadn’t, but this time he was pretty sure he might, and if he came as hard as he thought he was going to he might fall onto the floor again and he needed Dennis, he needed to hold onto him, had _always_ needed to hold onto him, and oh _God_ no wonder Dennis liked getting fucked so much, no wonder he had dildos, because it was _so good._

He came, so hard he might have forgotten how to breathe, and he forced himself up so hard that it hurt in a faraway, dreamlike way, like biting his tongue at the dentist’s office after being loaded up on anaesthesia, and maybe he’d feel it later, but the orgasm was so powerful he couldn’t think of anything. All he cared about was how he kept coming, and Dennis was shouting, red-faced, above him, jerking against that stupidly wonderful spot and filling him with come.

When the blinding orgasm slowly faded away, electricity dancing over every inch of skin, Dennis had collapsed on him, face buried in his neck and hips jerking ever-so-slightly forward with the tiniest of whimpers from both of them every time. He was oversensitive now, but also aching in a way that let him know he’d probably gone a bit too hard for his first time.

Dennis’ breath broke against Mac’s skin, against his throat. He sniffed once, the chuckled deeply. “I didn’t even touch your dick.”

“That felt great, dude.” His hole clenched around Dennis’ cock. It was still in him, though he could feel that it was softening. It stung, and not in a good way. On top of that, he was bunched up against the mirror, so his neck was kinda kinked, and there was definitely a bruise on the small of his back. Still, it was fucking amazing. “I might have to wait awhile before doing it again, though. But oh, there will be an again, I know that for sure.”

Dennis pulled away from his neck, and looked down at him. His mascara left black trails down his face, tears openly falling down his cheeks. “I did get a bit carried away there towards the end. Anyway, I have some cream at the house for that; I’ve gotten a bit too wild on my dildos before.” He sniffed openly, breathing wobbling when he let it out. A drop of water hit Mac on the forehead. “That was amazing, Mac. Thank you.”

“Dude, are you crying?” Mac reached up and traced the wet streaks with his finger.

“What? No. An onion must’ve flown up into my eye or something.”

“Uh, your pants are around your ankles and we’ve been out of onions for the past two days. You used up the last to cry for that girl at the cake store, remember?”

Dennis frowned with his eyebrows furrowed, breath hitching in his throat. “Must be some sweat then.”

No, they were tears, but Dennis probably didn’t understand or know that’s what it was, so Mac let it slide. Instead, he just held his beautiful husband’s face, the way any badass gay husband would, and pulled him down for a kiss.

* * *

Dee sat on the curb outside of the community theatre. Charlie leaned against her, arm looped through hers, and to be honest, even if she was hella angry at him for ruining their chances at giving Mac and Dennis what they deserved, she couldn’t quite make herself push him away. Frank sat on the other side of her, struggling with holding the check that was taller than he was when standing; he didn’t have a chance while sitting. Eventually he growled and threw the check to the side.

The place had emptied eerily fast, though that may have been because everybody could hear Mac and Dennis banging as loudly as possible. That could’ve been her and Charlie, scaring off people with their crazy sex, if he hadn’t blurted out their exploits for no reason whatsoever.

“If you hadn’t shouted to the world we banged in the vents, we totally could’ve won, Charlie. Why did you do that anyway? Were you nervous? Like, I understand dry-heaving and eating cheese, but shouting the one thing that would’ve got us disqualified? Goddamn.”

“Well you heard Mac, this was the only way to get him to think God was okay with him being gay, and to be honest, I want him to be happy. He’s my best friend, dude.”

“Wait, so you lost on purpose?”

Charlie shrugged. “Well yeah, I mean it was funny, right? The way I did it? And openly gay Mac was way funnier than closeted Mac anyway. So I planted the walkie talkie on Kelly and I got us disqualified.”

She didn’t know whether to be touched or pissed.

Actually, scratch that. She was pissed.

“Dennis called me ugly Charlie! And why does everything always have to go his way? I’m your wife, you’re supposed to have my back!”

“I did have your back!”

“Uh, no you didn’t Charlie, intentionally making us lose is the complete opposite of having my back!”

“They would’ve won anyway,” Frank grunted. Dee stared at him incredulously. “The whole thing was a fake. Artemis and I faked the whole thing. What, you think there was this game show coincidentally being filmed at the same time we’re bitching about Mac being closeted? You really think they’d let you send in an application days before filming? And it was at the exact community theatre we did Nightman in? We’ve been on a game show before. I gave birth to some dumbass kids.”

“Uh, first of all, we’re not you’re kids, well except Charlie maybe, and even if we were, you’re not the one giving birth, asshole!”

Frank shrugged. “I adopted Mac once for a week, and I raised you and Dennis. Charlie ain’t my kid for sure, but he might be. You’re as bad as the McPoyles.”

“The only ones actually related are me and Dennis and you and Charlie! And you actually married him once, so don’t McPoyle me!”

Charlie shook his head. “So wait if the whole thing was fake, then we would’ve lost anyway?”

“Yeah. The questions were literally written with Mac and Dennis in mind. How dank was the weed you sold your spouse the first time you met, who gave you the strength to go down on Chrissy Orlando, shit like that. Everybody there--the audience, the host, everyone--they’re all people we’ve had orgies with. It was all fake. Well, except for the gay broads. We dunno where the hell they came from.”

Dee stared at him incredulously. Frank, doing something solely for Mac’s benefit? “So this whole thing was literally to help Mac get out of the closet?”

“Hell no.” He snorted and rolled his eyes. “I just needed Wolf Cola to get some advertisement on public access and for a donation break on my taxes.” He jerked his head at the check. “Who do you think is paying for the five hundred thousand?”

Dee groaned, dropping her head into her hands. “So you let me and Charlie sign up knowing there was no way we could possibly win?”

“Yep. You deserved getting knocked down a few pegs, Deandra.”

“What the hell, Frank?!”

“You shouldn’t have called me ugly.”


End file.
